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Choose your reality

August 23, 2006

In my mind I am still 120lbs, without a wrinkle, always have time for mascara and don’t crave potato chips and chocolate frosting. But then I look in the mirror and doubt begins to creep in. I am much fatter than that after 2 children, 14 years of marriage and the loss of the will to starve myself and am not as hungover everyday as I use to be and food seems so much more appetizing. I look in the mirror everyday and think I am a fat useless cow with no will power and what is food anyway , but simply a way to sustain yourself and why aren’t I excising anymore ( I am a Pilate’s instructor although you would NEVER know it to look at me now). I feel disgusted and ashamed when I look at my fat stomach now. Disgusted because if I could just get my ass moving again and lay off the crap I would drop it all in a month or so. Then ashamed because I am wasting so much time on something that only matters to me. My husband loves me and tells me I look hot to him all the time. Why does it matter?

I had a juicy realization today that my thoughts are not only pointless and ridiculous unless I am willing to try to do something about them, but potentially harmful to my children. I took my son to use the restroom today out at the Apple store while we were browsing for some educational games to help him gear up to kindergarten and after I used the potty (you know you are a mom when you usually only say potty or it is the first word that comes to mind) and glanced at myself while I tucked my shirt in. My loving son, who tells me at least once a day how pretty I am or how much he likes my earrings or lipstick, says, “Don’t worry mom, you don’t look fat.”

I hadn’t even said anything. I was just looking disapprovingly at myself. He is  skinny kid, came out very premature and small for his gestation so we are always saying, “eat, eat, eat….to get big and strong” and here I am whining all the time about how crappy and fat I look.

I should start saving for his therapy now. I must curb myself before my dearest Chica starts to notice because that is the last thing I want to pass on to her. My mom was petite; size 5 shoe, about 100lbs, 5 feet tall. I am 5′ 4″ and use to be about 125ish and wear a 7 1/2 or 8 shoe. I see now my mom had an eating disorder because she never ate breakfast and probably ate no lunch and only ate dinner sometimes. But could if very stoned drink 1/2 bottle of tequila and eat a whole package of Oreos and not gain an ounce. I was the amazon in my family. That is what she called me. I am the one who had to get the big bowls from the top shelf and put the lights on the xmas tree.

When I became an anorectic at 15 my mom was thrilled that I was “finally loosing my babyfat”. I came to her a year or so later, after not getting my period off and on for 6 months and I weighed about 95lbs and she never saw me eat anything but I would obsessively exercise in my room and smoked obsessively that I might be sick and she said, “gosh, honey, I think you look great.”

Am I becoming my mother but in the doppleganger sense? For me, being a successful parent is about not foisting your bullshit on to your kid and letting them aquire it naturally their own.

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2 Comments leave one →
  1. laura permalink
    August 23, 2006 11:44 am

    Oh, honey, we’re all saving for our children’s therapy. I think daily about the many ways in which I’m ruining my kids.

    And by the way, I think you look great. Even in swimwear.

  2. August 25, 2006 1:50 am

    what if your mom was almost content to see you disturbed and fucked up at 15? such things do happen! PS.: I totally grasp that drill you got through.

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